


Vodka at 6am

by smallhands_largerips



Category: EXO (Band), Monsta X (Band), f(x)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Assassins & Hitmen, Copious Fluff, Crack, Fluff, Inspired by Now You See Me, M/M, Platonic Romance, The main characters are xiuchen everyone else just kinda chills, a little bit of kissing but nothing major, bts cameo, hes the ceo of ts entertainment and a huge asshole, i think im missing someone..., kpop cameos everywhere actually, monsta x cameo, no porn tho, oh yeah kim taesong, some scenes, theres no smut, theres some swearing!
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-16
Updated: 2016-12-16
Packaged: 2018-09-09 01:57:08
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,472
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8871256
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/smallhands_largerips/pseuds/smallhands_largerips
Summary: Hitman au!!You know, for a paid killer, Jongdaes just a sappy ol' romantic at heart.Minseok is a borderline alcoholic who's a little grumpy, a little short, and a mediocre conversationalist. But to Jongdae, he's perfect.





	

**Author's Note:**

> //SPECIAL THANKS TO MY BFFL SELENA WITHOUT WHOM THIS WOULD NOT HAVE BEEN POSSIBLE//
> 
> Enjoy the read~~~

 

It is a beautiful, balmy, summer night.

The warm darkness in Jongdae’s apartment is punctuated only by the pattering of a running shower, and a soulful rendition of “Boy is a Bottom”.

 

Jongdae steps out of the bathroom towelling off his hair, steam billowing out behind him. Shower and hour rhyme for a reason and he has zero regrets to offer. Dropping the towel on a chair and flopping onto his bed, Jongdae grabs his phone off the bedside table to check his social media in the soft lamplight before going to bed.

 

This kind of peace was hard to come by these days, Jongdae’s work problems often driving him to insomnia and questioning his own humanity in the silent, lonely darkness of night.

 

-

 

Jongdae runs into the office building the next day with his suit jacket slung over his arm and tie loose; he just barely manages to squeeze into the already crowded elevator. People in immaculate business wear grumble, but make room. It’s Friday and no one’s looking for any real confrontation. He smiles gratefully at the noona-lady at his left glaring at him and she melts a little, looking charmed.

Slowly the car empties as they climb up the levels and as the 58th floor approaches, Jongdae is left alone. Pressing the 60th floor button, the usual VIP access scanner turns on above the button pad and he places his hand flat across its face, fingers splayed out.

 

 _Kim Jongdae-ssi._ The scanner announces the result of the scanning.

 

The 60th floor is disguised to the other workers as the executives offices, which is partly true. But it also the convocation center for the employees whose jobs are a little less than perfectly legal. Such as Jongdae. On his office days, he emails and contacts investors of the company and strengthens external relations. Ordinary, boring stuff. On field days, he tracks down and… _removes_ any major threats that Joonmyun has deemed dangerous. Not ordinary, or boring, or legal in any way. In simpler terms, Jongdae is a hitman, who is also good at making powerpoint presentations.

 

The doors ding open and Jongdae immediately spies Joonmyun striding out of his office flanked by a shorter man with light brown hair-- kinda latte coloured, thinks Jongdae distractedly. He hasn’t had his morning hit yet.

 

“Ah, Jongdae, you’re here.” Joonmyun’s voice is laced with disapproval. Jongdae grins.

“Kim Joonmyun-ssi, sorry about my late arrival.” He says with a slow, insolent bow, eyes never leaving Joonmyun’s face. The CEO pinches the bridge of his nose and seems to be doing a count of five in his head. Jongdae makes a mental note to buy him lunch later.

“Jongdae it’s 11.”

“Oops. My bad.” He doesn't offer an excuse or explanation, only a small shrug. An innocent smile full of cheekbones. “So who is this?” Jongdae cocks his head a little and sticks his hand out to the latte-man for a shake. Up close the man looks very young, maybe early twenties. His eyes slant up prettily and his mouth is small and very pink. Jongdae is dazzled.

“Kim Minseok-ssi, this is Kim Jongdae. You will be partners from now on.”

The two men clasp hands firmly, maintaining a mutual-scrutiny sort of eye contact. Jongdae smirks.

“Pleasure to meet you Kim Minseok-ssi. I hope you’re good at things other than being gorgeous. ” Amusement seems to ignite behind Minseok’s eyes as he leans in a little and replies without a hitch. His voice is surprisingly deep and melodious.

“ Likewise, Kim Jongdae-ssi. By the way, your fly is down.” Jongdae screeches and glares viciously at Minseok’s retreating back and fixes his zipper. Joonmyun hides a grin behind his fingertips. This means war.

 

-

 

“I absolutely hate him, it’s just that he’s so-” Jongdae struggles for words, gesturing wildly with his half eaten croissant. “So-” Baekhyun snatches the pastry and takes a bite.

“The word you’re looking for here” Baekhyun finishes the croissant and licks his fingers clean. “Is ‘hot’, my poor, confused, gay friend.” Jongdae huffs and hands him a napkin.

“Stop that you man-child.” He flops onto their small two-person table dramatically. Baekhyun prods his lifeless form with a coffee stirrer.

“Wait lemme get this straight, you called me out to brunch-- on a Saturday morning-- so you could complain about how hot this dude is.” Baekhyun groans. “I didn’t realize we were hormonal middle schoolers.” Jongdae rises to slap him in the arm.

“This is your best friend having a crisis, I need answers.”

Baekhyun snorts into his coffee.

“Ask him out, bear his children, suck his dick, not necessarily in that order.” He slams his coffee onto the coaster for emphasis. “Boom, there you go. The solution to all your problems.” Jongdae buries his head in his hands to hide his burning cheeks.

“How the fuck are you a licensed counsellor I hate you.” Jongdae wants to melt into a puddle. Baekhyun stands up from his seat, grabbing his phone off the table with a wry smile.

“Hey I don’t judge your job, you can’t judge mine.” He giggles. “And by the way, please don’t hate me, I’ve seen what happens when you hate people. And I’m way too lazy for polyamory.” Jongdae watches him saunter away.

 

-

 

MONDAY:

It’s right before lunch break when the secretary Jongin announces that there’s a package that was delivered to their floor for Kim Minseok. Minseok’s mom often sends socks and scarves that she knits so this came as no surprise. He carries the box back to his seat and rips it open. _Bang_. There’s a scream and roaring laughter as Minseok now finds himself and everything he loves covered in glitter. His grandchildren will be born with glitter specks on them. Jongdae sips his coffee and smiles, fingers typing diligently and eyes glued to his screen- the very image of a perfect employee. He brushes a few specks of glitter that strayed over the divide off his desk.

 

TUESDAY:

Minseok arrives at work at exactly 8:30 am and notices a few things out of the ordinary. One, Jongdae is sitting at his cubicle hard at work, punctual to a fault. Two, said man greets him with a cheerful “good morning!” thrown over the top of the grey cubicle walls that separate them. Mystified, Minseok returns the salutation and plonks into his chair to start working. Oh and three, he discovers quite soon, the knobs of all the drawers are coated in lube. And now impossible to open because they’re so slippery.

 

WEDNESDAY:  

Minseok looks up from the report he was reading and stops at the entrance to his cubicle. There is an intricate pattern of trip wires spanning the entire workstation. Objectively, he’s quite impressed. He can see that there’s about 6 different ways that this can end badly for him ranging from a paperclip-rubber-band-machine-gun attack to a pulley system that ends with his freshly printed report dangling over a cup of coffee.

Subjectively, he dies a bit on the inside. Minseok maneuvers himself under a wire with on hand on the ground to balance while stepping over three strategically placed stapler ambushes. The entire floor seems to be holding their breath. He quickly spots the disengagement point; all the wires were weighted down under a small potted succulent. Victory was so close, he could feel a smirk lifting one side of his mouth. Aha! And he’s through the maze safe and sound. He lifts the plant off the wires and they fall limply to the ground. The office erupts in cheers. Minseok tips his coffee cup in Jongdae’s direction and sits down casually at the edge of his desk. A cruel _kachunk_ rings out through the office.

 

Ten minutes late, Minseok finds himself lying on his stomach in the first aid office, his pants pulled down just enough to reveal the puncture wound on his butt cheek. Jongdae quietly and guiltily cleans the area with antiseptic wipes. Minseok wonders what poor choices he made in a past life to deserve this. 

 

The mini war stops there, and Minseok arrives at work every morning the next week to find a french vanilla americano (just the way he likes it) sitting on his desk along with _Sorry hyung_ _:3_ sticky notes.

 

-

 

“So tell me a little about yourself, Kim Minseok-ssi.” Jongdae approaches the newest team member as he’s taking a water break. Minseok regards him curiously, they haven’t exactly been talking after the ass-staple fiasco.

Minseok shrugs slightly, “didn’t Joonmyun send you my file?”

Jongdae sighs dramatically and rolls his eyes. “I want to know about YOU my dearest Minseok-ssi, not your stupid degree in software engineering or hacking gizmos and manips or whatever.”

“Okay… what do you want to know?”

“Alright hyung, so hmm got any special talents outside of the work-related stuff?”

“Uh, not really. I’m good at arm wrestling? I’m pretty good at soccer too I guess.” Minseok shrugs again and goes to take a sip of his coffee, knowing his answers was pretty average, boring, lackluster. “How about you?”

“Super penis.” Jongdae replies without batting an eye and Minseok nearly chokes as a laugh is flies from his lungs unexpectedly. It sounds halfway between a child’s giggle and an asthma attack. Jongdae decides he loves the sound.

“And I can do this.” Jongdae clears his throat. “Hello, I am Kim Minseok and I’m very pretty.” Minseok’s eyes widen comically, ignoring the compliment. Jongdae had pitched his voice flatter and lower, drawing out his vowels the slightest bit. And all in all-

“You sound exactly like me! That’s so cool.”

Jongdae laughs, “It’s a pretty useless trick but it’s fun at parties.”

 

-

 

By Thursday, the noodle-like intern (Sehun? Willis?) with the nice ass drops a thick manila folder on Jongdae’s desk while he’s playing Agari.o and a new hunt’s begun.

 

It’s an easy sniper job this time. Same old, same old. The target is some fat middle-aged Mr. McJullian.

Jongdae is situated on the rooftop of some hotel building, meticulously attaching his tripod and muffler with deft, gloved fingers.

 

“Chen, 30 second warning, target vehicle approaching 2 o'clock to your position. Two passengers, chauffeur and subject.” Minseok’s terse voice comes through his earpiece a little scratchily.

“Roger that, sugar tits” Jongdae murmurs back and focusses the scope at the oncoming black car with heavily tinted windows. Minseok snorts, but otherwise remains silent.

Aim.

Focus.

Inhale.

Shoot.

And it’s a clean shot; right through the windshield into the forehead of the subject. Jongdae knows without looking, it’s where he aimed and he never misses.

“Mmm whatcha sayy…” Humming, Jongdae doesn’t waste any time before he’s packed up and down the fire exit stairs padding quietly into the darkened security room, towards a hunched figure whose face is illuminated by the television screens.

“Chen I know you’re creeping on me” Minseok’s eyes never leave the multitude of screens before him, fingers flying and spinning out new code sequences to change the footage. Jongdae laughs bright and clear, resting an elbow on the back of Minseok’s chair. A comfortable silence hangs between them while the hitman watches his partner work. The blurry black figure on the screen doing cartwheels down a stairwell slowly dissolves into nothing and then Chen is an invisible man. Jongdae whistles, eyebrows raised and Minseok stretches a crick out of his neck, trying to hold back a smile.

 

On the car ride home, Jongdae won the aux cord and is scrolling through his music. The city lights twinkle and blur on the velvet black backdrop of the night sky.

“Hey, were you singing ‘Whatcha Say’ after you fired?”  Minseok suddenly asks. Jongdae breaks into a cackle as he recalls.

“Yeah, hyung have you seen the vines?”

“You’re a dumbass” The corners of Minseok’s lips twitch up. Jongdae grins cheekily at him, picking up a travel mug from the cup holders in front of him.

“I’m your dumbass.”

 

_Ow hyung what the fuck, I thought you said this was coffee?_

_It has a little coffee in it i think /shrugs/ it’s mostly whiskey though._

 

_-_

 

“Hey Jongdae, do you wanna go for a drink with us after work?” Chanyeol’s mop of red hair pops into his cubicle at around 5pm. Jongdae turns away from his screen and rubs his eyes with the heels of his hands. It’s Friday, he can afford to live a little. “Mmm, who’s us?”

Chanyeol grins, sensing Jongdae’s interest. “Jongin, Kyungsoo, Minseok, and Sehun. I’ll text you details later.” He hesitates for half a beat before turning the same shade as his hair and mumbling, “B-Baekhyun can also come, if he wants.” Jongdae laughs and raises an eyebrow.

 

-

 

The venue is full to bursting with people by the time they get there. Baekhyun attached himself to Chanyeol as soon as they stepped out of the car and Jongdae pouts _aren’t you supposed to be my best friend?_ Baekhyun pats his thigh consolingly _Chanyeol’s hotter_ . Kyungsoo seems to be threatening Sehun quietly while Jongin watches, vaguely concerned and clearly drunk, whining at the cute chinese bartender with the dimples. And Minseok, oh god, _Minseok_ looks like sex on legs. His hair is freshly dyed platinum (isn’t that against office protocol?), with ripped black jeans that hug his ass and thighs. The shirt under his satin bomber jacket seems to be mesh, or some other non-opaque material, because Jongdae swears he can see (not that he’s been staring) the ridges of his abs and pecs through it. And Jongdae forces his eyes up from ogling his torso only to be assaulted by the force of Minseok’s cat eyes smeared with eyeliner. Heat licks up Jongdae’s spine and he quickly turns to down another glass of tequila. He feels a bit steadier when he looks back, forcing a playful smile to his lips to maintain normalcy.

“Wanna do shots?”

“Try me.”

 

“Where does it all gooo?” Jongdae wails as Minseok tries to hold him upright while hailing a cab. “You’re so tinyyy how does it fit in you?” A few people left of the street at this hour give them a wide berth and quicken their walking.

“My veins run with alcohol.” mutters Minseok as he hoists Jongdae’s arm over his shoulder. Jongdae ponders this new information seriously with a frown.

“That makes a lot of sense actually..” Minseok smiles tightly and mutters something that sounds like _please don’t throw up._

Thankfully a taxi pulls over before Jongdae can melt into an alcoholic puddle on the cement.

The rest really, is a big blur.

Jongdae doesn’t remember getting out of the cab but somehow they’re at his apartment door with Minseok rifling through his pockets growling “Where are your goddamn _keys?”_ Followed by a blurry black gap and then they’re in a bathroom where he’s puking and Minseok is patting his back chanting “gross gross gross gross oh my god I hate this”.

The next thing that wakes him is a sledgehammer on the inside of his cranium as light tries to crawl into his eyelids and the nastiest taste in his mouth. He rolls over once-

And Jongdae finds himself getting intimate with a wooden floor. Groaning, he reaches for his phone on the bedside table internally screaming because _this is the exact reason why I have a king-size._

He freezes, all nerve endings on full alert. His room is carpeted, not wood. Slowly, ignoring the pounding in his head, he surveys the room for a weapon while a million scenarios flood his mind. Kidnapping, human trafficking, mistaken identity, and various one vs group combat techniques are replayed like videos on repeat while he grabs a baseball bat leaning against the wall, he creeps towards the door and and that’s when he smells-- bacon? Last nights events fall into place in puzzle-piece flashes of memory and Jongdae flushes down to his neck.

 

When he opens the door, he’s greeted by the sight of Minseok with fluffy, unstyled hair wearing a large white t-shirt and boxers in an apron. ( _Bacon_ , his subconscious chirps joyfully, before he crushes it mercilessly). The early sunlight is filtering in through the floor to ceiling windows on the opposite wall, playing with dust motes, and Minseok... Minseok looks like an angel haloed in light.

He swallows. Hard.

Before he knows what he’s doing, Jongdae is stumbling forward and wrapping his arms around Minseok’s waist. His chin tucks into the shorter man’s trapezius like it was meant to be there, and for a second, Minseok stiffens (their line of work tends to make one jumpy as fuck) but soon relaxes his back to meld into Jongdae’s embrace.

 

“Why are you holding my baseball bat” The soft tone of voice says _how are you feeling._

Jongdae moans quietly, “hitman conditioning” _My head hurts, and everything hurts, and I’m going to die_

Minseok turns slowly, pan in hand, Jongdae still draped over his back, and puts the bacon on two plate full of scrambled eggs on the counter. One of the plates has a glass of water and two small white advils placed neatly beside it. (Minseok has a glass of bourbon coffee)

Nuzzling into his neck, Jongdae breathes out, “thank you.” _Thank you._

 

At lunch on Monday, Jongdae walks in on Minseok animatedly regaling Chanyeol and Sehun about the woes of handling a shit-faced Jongdae-- _I searched for his keys for 40 min while he sang the My Little Pony theme song!_ while the two bean poles guffawed unattractively. Jongdae ignores them and walks to the communal fridge bristling. Behind him, Minseok is gesturing about projectile vomiting and Sehun is on the ground in tears, literally rofl. Jongdae calmly ambles up to the trio, triangle kimbap in hand.

“Did you know that Minseokkie hyung has a life-sized plushie of shirtless Cristiano Ronaldo in his bed?”  

Chanyeol is now on the ground as well and Sehun looks and sounds like he’s choking. Amber and Krystal look over in concern and seem ready to dial for an ambulance. The betrayed expression on Minseok’s face has Jongdae cackling, the shorter man steals a bite of his triangle kimbap in retaliation.

 

-

 

The second job is a cat burgling mission; the target is a usb with critical evidence to destroy a company who profits from horrific sweatshop abuse. This is gonna take a bit of choreographing.

 

A week later Minseok breezes into the company tower in a security man’s uniform. Tugging the ball cap lower, he makes his way to the bag and personnel check for visitors, stopping before the man in the chair checking the bag CT scans.

“Hey Jungkook, I’ll take over from here. Boss said you’re off early today.” Minseok genially but firmly pulls the younger man away from the computer, and taking his seat. Jungkook frowns.

“What? No I’m not! Who even are you, I’ve never seen you before.” Shit, the boy’s smarter than he looks.

“Jungkookie, I got transferred from the East branch last week. Don't tell me you've forgotten hyung already! ” The reply is thrown over his shoulder jokingly as Minseok is already hard at work. Jungkook purses his lips, taking in Minseok’s badge and ID card. He really doesn't remember anything about this, but it was so early in the morning that it probably slipped his sleepy head. Relaxing, he stretches his back and realizes a break didn’t sound so bad.

“Alright… Xiumin, I’ll be in the break room if you need me.” The younger man calls as he drifts away, yawning. Minseok bites his lip to keep from smirking. Too easy.

 

“I’m coming in.” Jongdae murmur carries softly over ear comm.

“Roger.”

Minseok stands to stop a middle aged man with a swiss army knife in his bag, asking him politely to leave it at the desk until he returns. Turning to the next gentleman in line , Minseok instructs him to put his bag on a tray and push it through the machine in a professionally detached voice. Turning back to the computer as the bag is scanned, he quickly deletes the image of the bag scan and wipes the computer memory just in case. All those weapons would give poor Jungkookie an aneurysm.  

“Alright sir, you’re good to go.” Jongdae nods his thanks, picking his briefcase back up as he finishes his pat down. All clean, of course. Jongdae is a good, law-abiding citizen after all.

 

Minseok turns to the man at the metal detectors.

“I’m gonna head to the washroom, could you watch the CTs for a sec?” The black haired man, Min Yoongi (as indicated by his ID card) blinks sleepily and nods. Minseok strides to the men’s washroom and walks into the leftmost stall. After the two men at the urinals leave, he pulls open the cleaning supply closet and grabs a black jumpsuit; it’s an exact replica of the surveillance security uniform. He shoves the hat and the rest of the clothes into the supply closet, locking the door and throwing the key down the sink. Looking into the mirror, he pulls his hair back into a tiny man bun and fishes a pair of fake glasses from his pocket. He checks himself in the mirror again. Cute.

 

Heading down to the surveillance room, he finds his next target, a man named Lee Jooheon if his research is trustworthy, sitting at the computers playing some first person shooter game. Huh, top-notch security his ass.

“Hey how’s it going Jooheon!” Minseok saunters up to the man, who swivels around in his chair, surprised.

“Who are you? What are you doing down here?!” Jooheon jumps up to push him out of the room. Minseok grabs his wrist, effectively slapping a flat, white, wristband on him.

“Huh?” Jooheon stops to gape at the thing. “Wha-” Minseok swiftly unclips the taller man’s ID and badge and shoves them into his own pocket. “HEY STOP-” Jooheon is getting more and more aggressive and flustered.

“Don’t worry about it buddy, nothing personal.” mutters Minseok and he leans slightly out of the room to yell-

“SECURITY, THERE’S A STRANGE MAN IN MY ROOM” immediately, two buff looking security guards jog up to find Jooheon yelling and thrashing as minseok keeps a tight grip on the back of his collar. Jooheon stops struggling, relief washing over his face.

“Guys, oh thank god you're here! This man just-” But his words are cut short as a guard spies his wristband.

“Seoul Mental Ward?! Sorry sir, but you’re coming with us.” The two firmly lead his away Jooheon still yelling and stuttering.

 

Meanwhile, Jongdae paces purposefully down the hallway pulling an employee's lanyard over his head. He spies the subject walking up ahead, surrounded on all sides by journalists and secretaries. Jogging a little to catch up, Jongdae pulls a clipboard, pen and paper out of his brief case.

“Mr. Kim, I need your signature for the next shipment.” Jongdae pushes the clip board under the man’s nose and he signs, barely even breaking conversation.

“Yes Martha I understand-- here you go-- but we have to cut the expenditure in this branch.” They stride away and Jongdae quietly slips off into an adjoined hallway. Carefully peeling off the top layer of the document, Jongdae reveals a consent for visitors entry form to his personal office. The job is basically done, easy peasy. Jongdae steps out again and heads for the elevator, casually balling up the upper layer document and tossing it into a garbage can.

Subtly brushing the mic in his lapel, he mumbles, “entry achieved”

 

In the security room, Minseok is gleefully replacing Jongdae’s image with Beyoncé’s.

“Roger.” He watches as Beyoncé yellow lemonade dress swirls around her as she saunters up to the receptionist and presents the consent form before swaggering into the office. Beyoncé then proceeds to Kim’s desk and starts rifling through the drawers. Ah he’s found it, it’s still plugged into the PC.

Oh _crap._ Kim was rounding the bend and approaching the office.

“Chen, hurry the fuck up Kim’s coming in about 30 seconds!” Minseok hisses into his mic. Jongdae/ Beyoncé stiffens from their seat at the desk.

“I can’t the USB’s still transferring!” Jongdae’s voice is laced tightly with anxiety. In the other screen, the receptionist gestures animatedly and Kim looks confused and angry. This was not going to end well.

 

Kim Taesong steps into his empty office, looking and around and closes the door behind him. Jongdae lunges at the older man from behind the door and slaps a hand over his mouth and an arm around his neck. Taesong twists and squirms in his grasp, his screams muffled. His earpiece crackles to life.

“CHEN WATCH OUT-” A sharp pain explodes in his thigh, the little shit _stabbed_ him with a pen. Gritting his teeth, Jongdae stuffs a paperweight into the man’s mouth and reaches into his jacket for his knife. It’s a pretty thing; a hunting knife. The blade is wickedly sharp and slightly curved, with a serrated edge near the handle. Taesong, upon seeing the knife, starts crying and thrashing harder. God, this guy is not making this job easy for him. Jongdae wrenches the older man’s head up with the arm around his neck, and jabs the knife up into Taesong’s windpipe, right under the adam’s apple. The man gurgles wetly, the blood bubbling over his lips and Jongdae quickly jerks the blade to the side and yanks it out. Oh, the com device connection was never cut; he can hear Minseok breathing heavily on the other end.

He lets go of his grip on Taesong and the CEO collapses to his hands and knees, fingers scrabbling jerkily at the gushing wound. Jongdae wipes his blade and resheaths it. Minseok stutters something indiscernible. Jongdae ignores the wheezing, choking man and proceeds to do a quick fingerprint clean of the room.

“Hey Xiumin, you okay?” Jongdae inquires. Minseok says _yeah_ faintly and Jongdae goes back to his job.

By the time he’s done, Taesong has gone still and glassy-eyed. Jongdae jabs two fingers under the man’s jaw and does a quick pulse check-- nothing. Awesome.

He turns his head and sees the camera blinking its red light at him. Good, Minseok’s watching, he grins over his shoulder.

Minseok watches from the control room. He’s broken out in a cold sweat and fighting down his nausea. The thing is, he may have been a hitman for some time now, but blood-- he shudders again. Movement on screen  rips his attention back to Jongdae. He frowns. What the hell was he doing? His partner was kneeled on the white carpet with his back to the camera and he seems to be very interested in the carpet. Oh, Jongdae stands back from the carpet and Minseok laughs out loud, all worries forgotten.

 

Jongdae stands up and admires his work. His hands were soaked in blood earlier and now they were dry. The carpet however, read “I LOVE U” in bold, red letters. Winking and making finger hearts at the camera, Jongdae makes his way towards the balcony, taking off his suit jacket, turning it inside out and unbuckling some of the hidden folds. He puts it back on and zips it up and dives off the railing.

Heh, glide suits. Gotta love 'em

 

That night, after Minseok dropped him off at his penthouse, Jongdae lies awake in bed with a smile on his face. The clock beside him reads 4am, but that number doesn’t really bother him.

He doesn’t sleep at all that night, and for once, it’s because of happy thoughts.

 

-

The next job not their usual fare, in fact it wasn’t originally meant for them. Minseok and Jongdae realize this while reading over the contents of the manila envelope. This job involves a method called baiting, where you seduce the subject into a confined area and execute them there. Jongin is their baiting specialist because honestly, along with his talent in hand-to-hand combat, Jongin can turn on sex appeal like a light switch. The guys at work jokingly refer to his Kai personality as an entirely different person mostly because nobody wants to admit that the sweet, pure, angelic Kim Jongin can narrow his eyes and dance like a stripper. Said Jongin sprained his ankle and is still recovering, which is why Jongdae and Minseok are covering this job.

 

Profile shows that Mr. Song Mino, age 36, is to my disposed of at a ball in Taipei at the Grand Hotel hosted by his business associate. He has a small tattooed tally mark with nine ticks on his neck (legend says it’s one for every person he’s personally tortured and killed) and has a taste for affairs with pretty boys. His wife is famous for having the biggest tits in all of Asia. Jongdae feels disgusted. He’s more of an ass man.

 

He and Minseok show up at the ball in evening wear nonetheless. Jongdae in a steel grey 3 piece and Minseok in a traditional black with tails. They flash forged invites at the door keeper and are ushered in without a fuss. Minseok makes brief eye contact with Jongdae before he slides on a pair of snug white gloves and casually slips into the elevator to head for the security room. Jongdae has a mic, but no earpiece so everything has to go according to plan. Naturally, he mingles with the guests and make small talk about the food _this lox is divine!_ , the string quartet _what a talented virtuoso violinist!_ Until he spies a tallied tattoo out of the corner of his eye. Seven marks. Casually he beams a sweet smile from under his eyelashes and strikes up a flirtatious conversation in perfect Chinese.

“I’m Chen. Nice to meet you.”

 

Minseok is listening from the control room, watching the events unfold. Something heavy and bitter swirls in his stomach as Jongdae giggles and slide his hand up the other man’s thigh whispering “let’s go to your room.” against his neck. He robotically starts decreasing the quality of the videos for easier manipulation later, blurring pixels around the edges of Jongdae’s body. Really though, he’s watching Jongdae kiss the subject like a man watching his own inevitable death. The elevator ride has Jongdae pinned against the mirrored wall with his legs around the subject’s waist and Jongdae has the audacity to _whimper_ loud and needy when Mr. Song sucks a hickey right under his jawline.  

There’s a dull thunk as Minseok’s head hits the table and he closes his eyes desperately thinking unsexy thoughts and definitely NOT wishing to be in the subject’s spot. Kim Jongdae, decided Minseok, is a very good actor and deserves an oscar for his performance right now. He looks back up in time to see his partner in crime wink at the security camera behind Mr. Song’s back before putting on the fakest lascivious pout and the tightness in Minseok’s chest lessens a bit.

 

As the pair stumbles into the hotel room though, Minseok frowns at his screens for a second in confusion before he grabs his hair frantically and mutters a very bad word under his breath. All the cameras in the room are disabled. The cameras that were carefully placed and hidden by Baekhyun and Kyungsoo earlier that afternoon, which can only mean that the subject knows he’s being played. Jongdae is going to die.

Minseok’s vision goes white with panic, hysteria bubbling up in his lungs, and he’s up and running out the door before the chair he’s flung aside even hits the ground.

 

-

 

Jongdae giggles into Mino’s mouth as the latter roughly rids him of his suit jacket. The older man’s cold, groping, hands roam down the sides of torso around to the small his back and Jongdae is doing his very best not to shudder in disgust-- when suddenly the cold, hard, barrel of a gun is digging into his temple. Automatically his hands go up and he swallows, a faint ringing in his ears, meeting the older man’s eye. It’s his own handgun. Somehow he had slipped it out of Jongdae’s waistband holster and now it’s being held to his head.

“Wh-what are you doing babe?” Jongdae giggles again, trying for the innocent approach. “That's real kinky. ” The man chuckles and the revolver is being pressed even more firmly into side of Jongdae’s head. He reaches forward and plucks the mic neatly out of Jongdae’s pocket square and drops it on the ground to crush with the heel of his foot.  

“On your knees, _Kim_ _Jongdae_ ” He spits in Korean, slowly Jongdae lowers himself to the ground, eyes never leaving Songs’s face. “Good boy” his captor smirks faintly, only one side of his mouth curling slightly. “you might as well give up, slut. There’s nobody in this entire building that would care if you screamed. ”

 _He doesn’t know about Minseok._ Jongdae almost sags with relief.

Mino leans down and grips his chin, pupils black and bottomless. “One move out of place and Zico outside is going to give you a nice little hole in the side of your head.” Jongdae can see a telltale black scope perched on the rooftop of the opposing building like some morbid crow as Mino gestures out the balcony with a tilt of his head.

“Or,” the man mused, “ I could call my entire team up from the party and we could take off your pretty head and send it to Joonmyun, hm? There’s a fun idea.” He runs a thumb lightly along Jongdae’s cheekbone, stroking in soft, adoring sweeps and two thoughts blare across Jongdae’s mind simultaneously.

  1. This man is a psychopath.
  2. Minseok. Minseok needs to be kept safe.



 

-

 

Minseok sprints. The fire route echoes with the sound of his dress shoes hitting the concrete stairs; staccato and frantic to match the thumping of his pulse in his ears. His earpiece communication starts beeping: Jongdae’s mic has been destroyed. Minseok bites out a strained _fuck,_ digging the useless tech out of his ear, shoving it in his pocket, and starts taking the stairs three at a time.

Fourth floor, fifth floor, sixth floor, seventh floor…

-

 

Lightning fast, Jongdae lashes out and slams his fist into Mino’s temple, taking advantage of the taller man’s momentary imbalance to tumble the both of them behind the hotel bed and pin his gun hand to the ground with an oxford. Almost immediately gunshots ring out and holes appear in the wall opposing the balcony. The quiet after the fired round seem deadly silent, save for the ragged wheezing of a crushed windpipe under Jongdae’s forearm. Jongdae plucks the weapon neatly from the twitching, struggling man and promptly buckles in pain. Mino had kneed him mercilessly in the groin-- a low blow but an effective one-- and Jongdae loses his grip on the trigger guard. Both men watch as the gun goes spinning under the bed.  

Jongdae whips his head back to Mino’s face and the two make a split-second eye contact.

 

And then Jongdae is reeling back, vision flickering, holding his jaw because _ow_ , this guy’s wearing rings.

Okay so he’s obviously at a disadvantage here; Mino’s bigger, stronger, and has a sniper stationed outside. Oh right, there’s also a bunch of his goons in the party downstairs. Okay, that's fine. We just have to eliminate all these advantages and even the playing field a bit. Jongdae feints left, and as Mino lunges, he uses the broader man’s momentum to tackle him behind the wall into the bathroom. There now the sniper can't see them. As Mino’s disoriented, Jongdae rips the wire out of his collar. He finally found a use for his party trick.

“Men, evacuate the building and arrive at No.5 Chengde road in 10 minutes.” He growls in Mino’s voice before promptly grinding the device under his heel. He hopes the men enjoy their trip to the amusement park.

Cool that’s the sniper _and_ the goons crossed off the list. Mental fist pump.

Mino snarls and rolls both of them over, slamming Jongdae’s head into the tiles. He keels backwards and the world spins and flashes black and white.

“You bitch.”

Mino’s hands wrap mercilessly around Jongdae’s neck, his eyes stretched wide, pupils dilated and wild. Jongdae chokes and writhes under the older man’s weight, blunt nails clawing scrabbling uselessly at Mino’s wrists and hands. His mouth is hanging open but there isn’t even a trickle of air passing through his windpipe. Mino is saying something, but Jongdae feels like he’s drifting into a warm, fuzzy darkness. His eyelids are heavy and his struggling grows weaker. This was peaceful, he kinda liked it. Truth be told he always new that he’d one day become a work casualty, but maybe by bullet as an ironic end to the life of a gunman. But this was fine too, it’s less of a dramatic, heroic end but it’s oddly tranquil and that’s a blessing in itself.  

Jongdae’s vision is completely gone now, when did he close his eyes? It doesn't really matter. There’s a soft glow of light in front of him, (an open door?) and a beautiful man in a suit steps in. Minseok.

 

Jongdae smiles gently and closes his eyes. His heart slows to a stop.

_Take me home hyung_

 

-

 

The next thing that wakes him is a sledgehammer on the inside of his cranium as light tries to crawl into his eyelids and the nastiest taste in his mouth. He rolls over once-

And Jongdae finds himself caught in a strong, warm embrace that smells like home.

“Woah- hey, slow down, it’s like you’re trying to get yourself killed.” A vision of perfection floats into his line of vision. Minseok’s tired, beautiful face is grinning at him, barely an inch away, and he briefly wonders why everyone was so scared of dying if the afterlife was this damn good. And then Minseok’s shoulder presses into his bruised adam’s apple and Jongdae groans in pain and Minseok is flustered and panicking, spewing apologies while producing an ice pack out of literally thin-air. Ah yes, pain. Perks of being alive. The faint beeping of hospital machinery and hushed Chinese conversation slowly lulls him back to sleep and Jongdae grins tiredly as he lets Minseok tuck him in with the icepack and feed him small sips of water.

 

_Hyung this is vodka what the fuck._

_Oops that was my glass, here, yours is water._

_Hyung, your liver’s gonna explode by the age of 30_

 

EPILOGUE

 

It’s a beautiful, crisp autumn night.

The warm darkness in Jongdae’s apartment is only broken by the pattering of a running shower, and a pair of voices singing, harmonizing and giggling in peaceful contentment.

Minseok doesn’t really drink much these days, and Jongdae hasn’t touched his sleeping pills for a while.

 

And the nights aren’t so lonely anymore. For both of them.

  
_Fin_

**Author's Note:**

> This is my first ever writing that I'm posting so I'd love some feedback!!!  
> even if u hate it just tell me pls!  
> DISCLAIMER: i know nothing about actual hitmen so ahahahaha pls take everything with a grain of salt
> 
> I tried to put in some ~sexy time~ but the keyword is tried. After I used the word dick for the 43rd time i honestly just gave up
> 
> swig swag dib dab peace out girl scout


End file.
